Do you remember your first?
by MiiYuKira
Summary: People come together during weddings- and this was one event that none of the nobles were going to miss. A momentous first meeting for many, and we all know where it went from there. Follow our favorite children around Redcliffe!
1. Chapter 1: Your first real party

**Do you remember your first—?**

Summary: This is a short fic about _some_ kids who meet at Redcliffe years before the Blight. Story will be in third-person (which I'm not very good at, but I'll do my best), and we'll also find out how Alistair first develops his unholy _love_ of cheese. *wink*

Characters: Alistair, Elissa, Cailan, Anora, Fergus, Nathaniel

A/N: Erm I'm putting this up to remind myself to update it—or it'll never get uploaded. Heh. So I apologise in advance if I take say, three weeks to update. I'm not entirely sure if the timeline's right? But hey, we can fantasize about how awesome this meeting will be if it were actually shown! Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Your first real party<span>**  
><strong>

The boy watched the streamers flutter in the breeze from his loft, the bright pinks, blues, purples, reds of these looked so merry as even more people flooded the place for the wedding. Isolde was finally marrying Arl Eamon. And just as expected, _he_ wasn't invited. It was not like he cared or anything— at least he had a free rein for the day—no one would pay any attention to him as far as he knew. He just wished… that they'd save some cake for him.

The icing on that largest one had looked most scrumptious.

xOxOx

"I'm bored." The little girl whined, careful to keep her voice low amid the throng of nobles. Her Mother and Father were off somewhere in that mix, mingling, speaking of the most boring things that the adults could come up with.

She wished that she had been left at home. The new _mabari_ puppies were coming soon, and she did not want to miss the birthing. Elissa rather hoped that Fergus and her could secretly imprint one before Mother had a chance to protest. _She_ didn't like the smelly things very much. Elissa loved the way the dogs smelled. Sure most of it was doggy, but it was familiar—although a tad wet. They reminded her of _home_—of what Ferelden meant to her. They were also the reason why their tutor had been pleased with her last composition. She had written about Chance—their full grown _mabari_ who was about to become a father himself.

At least Fergus was here. He was similarly dazed by the sheer size of the crowd, and both of the young Couslands were glad that none of the nobles had deigned to approach them to comment on how their outfits were. Some of these ladies terrified him with their garish makeup.

"Me too… but we're supposed to be close by, as Father's moral support." He kept his voice low too, and clutched at his sister's hand. He really did not like how loud these people were.

But still Elissa murmured. "But… can I at least go see the horses? I'll be quick— they're in the stables—and that's so near the main yard."

She was itching to get away from this place. She preferred the horses to these people; at least _they_ smelled better than the odd scents the nobles used. Some of these richly-dressed people did not look very happy, although weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions. They looked angry.

Her brother turned and gave her a dirty look. "And what about me?"

He seemed slightly anxious, but that was to be expected. Elissa knew how he felt about masses of people. Her brother would very much prefer to be left tumbling in the dirt, training with his (wooden) sword and shield. He wanted to be a warrior.

"I guess… you can come too…" She hadn't really thought of that. Anything, to get away from the stifling heat. The little girl also realised how unhappy she sounded at the thought of being accompanied, and was relieved that her brother only smiled, squeezing her hand gently.

"I'll keep watch for you here—tell them that you've gone to the privy." This was why she loved him. He always understood. She promised that she would be back soon. She could not leave him on his own for long. Fergus looked too handsome in that green velvet for his own good, she snickered privately. Most of these ladies would no doubt want to introduce him to their own little girls back home.

"I'll be quick. I'm just taking some apples to them." She let go of his hand—reaching behind them and counted off five of the reddest apples she saw. They were huge, and were all she could carry. The horses would have to share.

Her brother laughed, waving her off, turning his watchful eyes back to the adults. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied, still. "Be careful with your dress— or you'll have to wear that purple one."

She made a face at him—they both knew the dress. It was a ghastly taffeta—one that she had resisted all her parents' efforts to make her wear. Father had said she looked absolutely wonderful in it—almost a princess—he had added, but Elissa only shook her head. She did not want to be a princess. She wanted to be his 'Pup'. The muted blue dress she had on was her favourite, still. Looking around, Elissa inched beneath the long tables, turning her attentions back to sneaking out of the hall with her arms full.

The apples which she had gathered into her arms thankfully did not spill—though they threatened to escape her grasp—and Elissa found all the ducking and dodging between the tall people quite exciting. None of them even turned to look at the small figure squeezing past, so focused they were on their inane banter. Elissa owed her skill in stealth to all those nights she crept out of her room (they had only recently begun sleeping in different quarters) and into Fergus's where she would kip out on the spare bed—she missed the sounds of his snoring— those lulled her to sleep where mere sheep-counting couldn't.

Even the men in shiny armour did not seem to have noticed a young girl, small as she was, slip out through the heavy doors, clutching at the five red apples like the small treasures they were.

xOxOx

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><p>P.S.: So that's it- the first chapter of my take on what happens when you bring noble-borns to Redcliffe. All of them in the same place! So cute! Please leave a review—thanks for reading :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Your first real friend

A/N: I had intended a different order, but I figured that some of these can be interchangeable. For now, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Your first real Friend<strong>

He wasn't dozing, he had just closed his eyes for a few long moments, dreaming about… A family.

And food. Mostly food.

Alistair had not eaten anything for a whole day, not even breakfast. Everyone had seemed so busy, dashing about from place to place, hurriedly getting things in order for Arl Eamon's bride. Alistair felt embarrassed to even approach the cook, who had a soft spot for the boy— his own hunger would only distract kind old Farrah from her preparation for the hundred strong nobles who would swoop down upon Redcliffe.

Like big ugly eagles with claws for feet, huge wingspan, bulging eyes, balding heads— oh wait—those weren't eagles, were they? Some nasty bird anyway.

He didn't like nobles, with the exception of Eamon. Alistair had heard stories about how spoilt rotten they were, and this was only proven by the horrid children who came along with their parents every month or so, priggish boys and spiteful girls who had nothing nice to say to him. Yes, Alistair was content remaining where he was, in the loft, with the horses and hay. He was not hungry anymore. No. At least, that was what he hoped his body would believe. But it wasn't working, much. Sigh.

He tried to whistle, hoping that the pangs would stop, but couldn't. His lips were too dry. Great, now he needed something to drink too. He had had almost made up his mind to leave the stables, when a small sound of the door creaking open froze his feet to the wooden loft. He knew that it couldn't be any of the servants, but remained hidden. He didn't want to be seen by the noble guests.

Some soft cooing was heard, and the loud huffs from the horses told him that whoever it was, they had bought food for them. Alistair peeked over the railing, and almost fell when he saw a pint-sized girl, feeding the huge grey stallion half of a gleaming red apple. The girl had the darkest hair he had ever seen, curled into large ringlets, loose over her shoulders, bubbly chuckles erupting as she chastised the greedy horse which had tried to reach for the rest of her apples. Her blue dress was not plain, nor was it ostentatious. She looked nice.

Seeing the small hill of fruit next to the girl being shared out among the animals, Alistair could not help but sigh again. To his alarm, this barely audible noise startled the girl, and she spun around with a muffled shriek. He tried to call out, tried to wave his hand in greeting, but only fell, having lost his balance, off the loft and onto a soft pile of hay below.

He felt like such a klutz, and remained lying there, prone, for a while— horribly embarrassed by his ridiculous antics and clumsiness. The noble child was probably going to laugh, derisively, at him—the stable boy with very bad balance. Alistair always resented that. He wasn't all that clumsy. Eamon had called him awkward—which he would soon grow out of. At least, Alistair had hoped that it wasn't permanent.

The 'whump' next to him was not expected, but when Alistair turned to stare at the girl, he found himself gazing into a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Whoever she was, she had joined him in the hay, motioning for him to remain still and be quiet with a finger on her lips. He assented with a nod, and the two of them huddled together behind the haystacks while she clutched at Alistair's sleeve, fingers trembling, just the little bit.

The two children sat in silence, ears straining, wondering what it was that had scared the little girl so. It was then the fanfare of trumpets was heard, and still more people entered the stable, bringing with them several more horses.

A great deal of jingling was heard, and then, mutters before the men left the stables. The girl immediately sprung up from next to him, squealing just a little bit when she saw the new horses. She didn't seem to be afraid around the towering animals. These were huge chargers, Alistair saw—bred for war—very expensive breeds. He _knew_ who these belonged to. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore. And yet, his stomach protested. Loudly.

The girl turned, cocking her head to the side, curious.

"Have you not eaten?" She seemed genuinely concerned. Alistair shook his head, wishing that she would go away. He felt miserable.

She didn't leave. In fact, she came closer, even. "There's plenty of food indoors." Again, there was that faint note of worry.

"I can't go indoors. Not allowed to." Alistair found himself blurting aloud. He tried not to feel sorry for himself, but it was the truth. Isolde did not want to see him indoors, especially on this day.

"Oh… Okay, wait here." She had sounded so matter-of-fact that he found himself growing alarmed. He didn't really want her to leave. She had seemed nice.

"Wait—" he called after her, clutching at her hand. Too late—the door had swung shut, and the light tapping of her feet fled, away from the stables. He was alone again.

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><p>P.S.: Hopefully, I'll have Cailan next. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, yes? :D<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Your first adventure

A/N: So… I'm really slow in updating this. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy! Just a note though… accounts might not be in total chronological order.

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><p><strong>Your first adventure<strong>

Cailan had to admit, save for the occasional pretty girl, weddings were quite boring. His father was off again, receiving introductions, being all Kingly while Cailan stood at his side, smiling and saying the most perfunctory things, a wink here, a grin there—and the nobles lapped it up. It was only when the surliest person in the room—Loghain, approached them, that the large crowd scattered frantically. The man had a way with the masses.

"Ah Loghain, there you are." The adults met with the usual greetings, but all Cailan could see was the delicate flower of a girl, following in the man's stern wake. Cailan was perfectly aware that his father was saying something about him, but could pay no more heed—he was furiously thinking of the things to say to this new… development.

Whole sentences and their meanings eventually broke past the swoon that had captured Cailan's brain. "And this is your daughter? She is very lovely."

"Yes, this is Anora. Thankfully, she does not resemble me in the least," came the dry response.

"That is fortunate. But I jest, she has your eyes." His father the King was certainly joyful today despite his earlier grimness, Cailan noted.

The girl curtseyed, her soft sapphire eyes catching his in a shy gaze. Cailan found it hard to concentrate, much to the further amusement of the adults around them.

"And I'm Cailan." He smiled, hoping that he had nothing stuck between his teeth, fervently wishing that he was more dazzling, in the presence of this beauty. Their fathers then wandered out of earshot, conversing in the far corner of the room, heartily aware that everyone was still staring at them, watching, like hawks.

The girl giggled, unable to help herself, as soon as they were somewhat alone. Their situation was most... amusing, he supposed. It sounded like the faint tinkling of bells, not guffaws like some of the nobles made, nor the vague incessant tittering that secretly grated on Cailan's nerves.

"It sure is… lively, isn't it—Prince Cailan?"

He hurried to correct her, hoping to wow her with his graciousness. "Just Cailan will do. And yes, it is… busy. But terribly bothersome. Whatever are we all waiting for?"

Anora smiled, nodding faintly. "Yes, but all of this is… essential. Weddings are bothersome for all who are not directly involved."

Perhaps she was making a reference to their own engagement—decided by their parents since birth. Cailan didn't mind being married to her—she was so pretty—and as long as he didn't have to plan the thing.

"Yes, but we've nothing to do now. How… magnificently droll."

The pair of them walked, keeping to the edges of the party, careful not to draw attention to their somewhat stealthy advance to the quieter, less-crowded part of the room. There, they came upon children, and were somewhat relieved, the adults were tiresome. The youths appeared to be somewhat preoccupied in conversation.

"Hello—"Cailan began, only to startle both boys with his greeting. They looked around them warily. "Any interesting happening?"

"I guess you could say that." Said the one with close-cropped hair. "My sister's missing, and I can't find her. Nathaniel here won't let me."

The one with the longer locks shrugged, shaking his head in reply. "I didn't say you couldn't go. I just meant wait until your parents are sufficiently distracted—"

"The King is here with his son—I say that's enough distraction for any noble—" began the other one hotly. Cailan agreed, the swarm of people had evidently gathered in that part of the room. Anora gasped a little at the sheer rudeness of the little boy, though Cailan paid no heed. No one was looking in this direction. Not so soon, anyway. This would be a very good opportunity to slip away, unnoticed.

He offered his solution, as evenly as he could—it was pretty clever, if he did say so himself.

"You could leave now. No one's paying attention to us." Cailan secretly wanted to follow these two—at least some adventure could be said to be had at Redcliffe. But he appeared to have spoken too soon—their absence had been noted, and quickly rectified with the swift advance of courtiers, who were going to escort him and Anora back to his father's side.

"There you are, Prince Cailan, Lady Anora."

Both boys stared at him, their surprise evident. Some embarrassment was felt, for they were both blushing terribly at their previous behavior. Their respective parents were also approaching, seizing on the chance to introduce their own children to the royal family. The boy who had been looking for his sister paled slightly, before murmuring some choice words under his breath.

"Oh—pooh." He puffed out his cheeks, before trying to look as innocent as possible. Nathaniel only affected penitence.

Cailan liked both of them _,_ even if they were a bit younger—and he would devise something to allow them all to go find this one's sister. No one would mind the Prince's little harmless whims.


	4. Chapter 4: Your first crush

**Your first crush**

Prior to that interruption however, Nathaniel had an encounter. One he wished to repeat. It was apparent that a new arrival was causing the stir—a huge commotion in the hall— the fanfare of the royals unmistakable. No one but him seemed to have noticed that a young girl had slipped back towards the buffet, no one seemed to have noticed her entrance quite as acutely as he did.

It was Lissa—well—Elissa Cousland. They had played together rather often, whenever his father visited Redcliffe. Both Couslands were fun. They had many adventures together, getting into trouble during most of them, but it had all been worth it. And Nathaniel felt himself to be somewhat… captivated, by little Lissa, though Father disapproved.

And here she was, at the same hideously boring event, dressed in her favourite dress. She seemed deep in thought, stopping in front of the tables of food, eyeing them quite closely. She appeared to care not for the new arrival, and a determined expression crept onto her face. Nathaniel stepped, as silently as he could, as close as he could—just as he watched her fingers close around a large, silver tray.

"_Stealing_ food, Lissa?" He whispered, not inaudibly. She jumped, and almost flipped the platter onto the floor. He steadied her hand, and only a single breadroll escaped from the table.

Her green eyes shot up to his own, evidently startled. She then glanced at the dish she still held, before muttering something softly. Nathaniel could barely make out the words. "I was… hungry."

"But the _whole_ plate of bread?" He was smiling at her, amused. She was a terrible fibber, though he wondered why she bothered—she knew he could be trusted. He never once gave her away during a game of guard and prisoner. Fergus was always the guard. He had the heaviest footsteps among the three of them.

She murmured again, evidently eager to get away. "I'm going to eat elsewhere; I don't like the other nobles."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, but nodded gravely. He didn't like the nobles either. He was rather, more concerned that Elissa was lying quite so much today, though he supposed that it was none of his business. He also noticed that he wasn't invited to follow her, and that fact worried him too.

He gently unlatched her fingers from the heaping plate of bread—if she was going to eat elsewhere, it had better not be something quite so noticeable. Something less likely to be missed. Something that has not been touched since the first arrivals. His eyes chanced upon the perfect thing. The Orlesian cheese platter. No one would miss that.

Leading the girl behind him, he slipped that off the table, before taking a few rolls of buns for good measure. Cheese always went well with bread. Elissa took these from him as he handed them to her, evidently much happier. She smiled most radiantly, before remarking on how clever he was. She did appear less than enchanted by the smell coming from the plate.

"Thanks, Nathaniel. You're a lifesaver." What an odd choice of words. He wondered if he should follow her, just in case. But she seemed quite determined to leave.

Nathaniel remembered something. "Wait, Lissa—" He stopped her as quietly as he could, before placing a goblet full of what he deemed to be grape juice, setting this down gently on the tray she still held. "In case you get thirsty. Are you sure you don't need my help?" The girl only shook her head, slipping out—leaving him with only a _"Thanks"_.

She appeared to be quite in a hurry, and though Nathaniel was only a child, he knew that her parents would search for her soon— no doubt wanting her to meet the King and Prince Cailan, perhaps impress everyone with her beauty. He resolved that it was up to him to delay that, for her sake. No matter. He was getting to be rather good at feigning ignorance, having learned quite a bit of that from Thomas and his incessant tattling.

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><p>P.S.: I know how short these chapters are. Especially this one. Heh. I do hope everyone who's reading enjoys it still. Thanks, and please leave a review? :D<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: Your first brush with

A/N: So... thanks for reading this story, and for leaving reviews when you can (Jaden and Tuneless- Thanks so much!)  
>- still would like to hear from everyone- a review, a pm- etc. Of course, it's completely voluntary, though it would mean a lot to me :D<p>

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><p><strong>Your first brush with 'death'<strong>

Fergus knew that the business of steering clear of his parents was up—that he had to face them both sooner or later, though he would rather this confrontation came later. Much later. Perhaps not at all, even. And then there was the matter regarding the prince; the little boy allowed that his manner had been unspeakably rude in Cailan's presence.

Sure enough, the first thing his parents did was to introduce him to his Royal Highness, all tall and blond. "Ah Prince Cailan, Lady Anora. I see you've met my son, Fergus." said his father, whose worried eyes searched his own.

Prince Cailan just seemed cheerful, not in the least offended by the circumstances that had made up their encounter. "Yes, we've met."

Lady Anora appeared slightly discomfited, unable to nod or reply with more than a cursory smile. This was then Fergus noticed the crowd that had crept up behind his parents; a mob of anxious eyes, annoyed glares, fans of hands that covered those spiteful, twisted sneers and blood-red gaiety of their lips. They had directed their collective hate at the poor girl, who looked about to cry.

The not-so-little boy wished that the prince would notice, and stop them. He knew the feeling of being stared at quite like that. Poor Anora.

Just then, the king swept into the crowd, parting them like a sea of monsters— his smiles and Teryn Loghain's presence cutting them in two. The great Hero of River Dane was certainly living up to his reputation. Fergus wanted to be like him, one day. A great warrior.

"I see that our children have already made themselves acquainted, Bryce."

His father smiled and nodded, though he still looked vaguely perplexed. Mother's eyebrows did that thin, arched query, and her eyes seemed aglow with a gathering storm. She was suspicious. As usual. He gulped, though thankfully, the king's presence would prevent her legendary temper.

"Both generations in the same place does make this a momentous event even without the wedding— although… Bryce, I do seem to recall that you had two children?" It was innocent enough, but that inquiry sent the little boy's stomach into little twists of anxiety

"Yes, your Majesty. This is Fergus. My daughter, however, appears to have—ah— _escaped _from the Hall." The little boy's father looked at him searchingly again, but it was his mother who asked the all important question.

"Fergus, where is your sister?"

Faced with this many adults, the little Cousland felt less-inclined to lie—but it had been the one thing that he had promised his sister. He only hoped that Prince Cailan could keep a secret.

"Privy." he mumbled. "Elissa needed to use the privy. It was… quite urgent." None of them seem to have bought that explanation, and his mother especially so. Her lips pursed, before casting her steely gaze elsewhere, sweeping through the hall. She always knew when they fibbed—though this was largely due to the fact that both the Cousland children were terrible at lying.

Thankfully, King Maric's next questions drew everyone away, but not before giving him a knowing wink. His performance was evidently not in the least bit convincing, even to perfect strangers. Fergus suppressed an inward groan. He had embarrassed himself in front of the Hero of River Dane, as well as King Maric the Savior. But there were more important issues at hand; and Fergus had no wish to face his wrath mother without his sister again. Just where was Elissa Cousland?

He turned, slightly, and spotted Nathaniel, who was not having the best time of his life either—being nagged by his own parents for leaving their side—something about missing a rare opportunity. Thomas appeared to have told on him; again, the little imp was hiding behind his mother's skirts, unable to control his growing smile. There was no way Elissa would ever end up with that boy—not if Fergus had anything to say about it, despite Arl Howe's efforts with Fergus's own mother. Nathaniel's brother was a snitch, through and through.

Fergus then decided that he would find Elissa without Nathaniel's help. The latter had enough problems without getting into further trouble, though he rather suspected that his best friend rarely paid attention to the threats made by his parents.

And so, he approached the door, swiftly stepping past the people, praying to the Maker than he would remain out of his mother's line of sight. So far, so good. The king was providing a really good distraction for them, the little boy saw. He had almost got to the entrance when a hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back behind yet another table. It was the prince; whom he glared balefully at— having ruined a perfectly good attempt at stealth.


	6. Chapter 6: Your first reality check

A/N: So… Anora. I'm not sure how everyone will like this Anora, but I hope she's convincing? Thanks for reading this far! Next, we'll go round the names again, but in different orders this time. Maybe in reverse. But I know how everyone wants to see Alistair again, so I'll go with that first *wink*

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><p><strong>Your first reality check<br>**

Anora felt horrible. Everyone was staring; terribly fixated on her movements with Prince Cailan—their hate coming off in waves of malcontent and dagger-like glares. She kept thinking about how she should not show fear to these nobles, of how she _was_ still a Teryn's daughter, after all. And so, Anora tried not to clutch at the prince's sleeve, tried not to follow too closely behind— and was all but relieved when he offered his arm— though this seemed to have been done almost unthinkingly, and not out of determined chivalry.

She briefly wondered if he truly had noticed her discomfort, but she was glad anyway. Glad for the company, glad for his attentions; and her heart grew lighter with each smile, though she barely kept up with his words—so eager he was in their furtive attempts to leave the hall.

"Father really is drawing a lot of attention to himself," the boy in question mused, pleased at their progress towards the door.

He was practically vibrating in anticipation, glee evident in his sparkling blue eyes. Anora giggled, despite herself, watching her Prince with interest. He was so handsome, and charming, though a little vacuous at times.

The young boy, Fergus, seemed to have no patience for either of them, flicking annoyed glances over his shoulder, watching intently for anyone who would impair their escape._ He really is in a hurry to find his sister, _thought Anora, who found his concern very touching.

She was an only child, and sometimes bemoaned the lack of sibling companionship. But her father spent so very little time in Gwaren that she gave up all hopes of such years ago. No one could replace the woman that her mother had been, it seemed. That, she understood. Ferelden women appeared to be less-than-enchanted by the famed Hero he was, what with King Maric and his charm.

Anora also knew that she had to grow up fast, for her Father's sake. And so, she studied: books, swordplay—even archery. To be no less worthy for the king that Cailan would be, one day. She knew what had to be done, if Cailan remained this easily distracted.

She would grow stronger. And lead, if he could not.

All this she knew as if it were her duty. And it was, despite what the other nobles wanted in their shining Prince—she had no choice in the matter either.

She sighed inwardly. All of this _would_ be easier if she were a boy. But for now, she would follow in her Prince's wake.

The guards, very understandably, stopped the children at the door.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, but you will have to remain inside, for your safety." Said the men who barred their exit. Predictably of course, the boy called Fergus had slipped off, ahead of them. Cailan began to bluster, and Anora tried, gently—to nudge _him_ in the right argument.

"Prince Cailan—did your father, the King— say anything _specific _about _staying_ indoors?" she began, innocently.

_He_ was enlightened, and twinkled his eyes most dazzlingly at her, before turning to the guards. "As a matter of fact, no. He would want me to have fun, though." He winked, to some effect. Both guards were wavering, wanting to please their charismatic Prince. She opened her mouth again, thinking to invent some excuse. Perhaps playing faint? It was rather stuffy in the Hall. And the women in the books she had read used this pretext with alarming frequency and usually success. But how she felt uncomfortable resorting to such—she wanted to appear as dignified as possible, at their first meeting.

There was no need for such theatrics, however—for at that moment, a young man passed by and offered his assistance, nodding knowingly at the guards.

He was tall, brunette (was that word used right?) and had the drollest expression on his face— perhaps for both their sakes— the little girl thought. "I will keep an eye on them—perhaps that is enough? Maker knows I need a breather too." Anora was intrigued. Just who was this man?

As soon as they entered the courtyard, this burning question was answered.

"Thanks, Uncle Teagan," Cailan and _he_ were evidently on very good terms. The man replied with a chuckle and a nod, complimenting the pretty girl on the prince's arm. She smiled in return, hoping it did not appear strained.

It was all she could do, apparently. Look pretty. This Teagan was another person who thought highly of her looks. Anora sighed as she peered around the area, seeking the figure of that singular little boy and his sister. There were more pressing issues at hand.


	7. Chapter 7: Your first meal

A/N: I hope you enjoy reading! Thanks for keeping up with the story so far! And as promised, Alistair and Elissa! *grins*

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><p><strong>Your first meal in a really really really long time<strong>

He tried not to feel so sorry for himself—tried to mentally will his growling middle into submission—tried to stop thinking about how _pretty_ that girl was—and was failing. Miserably. Alistair wondered if she'd come back, though chances were slim. She was probably enjoying herself inside; the party had to be some kind of fun, and for the first time… he felt just a tad left out. He leant against the wall of the dank, slightly smelly (he had long gotten used to the fumes) stable, sighing.

A sudden scrambling at the door made him turn and stare at it, before the same girl tumbled through—back first, almost falling. Alistair steadied her just in time, gripping her shoulder, balancing the large dish she cradled in her arms. The girl's hair seemed slightly frazzled, but her eyes shone with something—excitement? She seemed very pleased to see him. The feeling was no doubt, quite mutual; he couldn't help but grin, touched that she had come back. For him. She proffered the things at him, and the side of the huge plate jabbed mildly at his chest through his roughspun clothes.

Wait—a large _dish_? A foreign smell caught Alistair's nose, and he glanced downwards to find—what appeared to be food. A magnificent pile of buns, and some lumps— _and_ thick slices of a decidedly pale yellow colour made up its contents. Sure enough, a rumble came from his belly, and the girl giggled.

But as he made for the topmost roll, the girl drew the plate back, away from him. "Hands. You have to wash them first." Of course. Such simple etiquette—he barely even slowed, swiftly dunking the offending limbs in a nearby pail of water. Alistair took the time to dry these, hoping that his eagerness to fill his protesting stomach did not make him to be a barbarian in front of someone he clearly wished to impress.

Out of habit, from the times when he had actually lived in the castle with Arl Eamon, he showed his now (relatively) clean hands to the girl, and these she looked over with a mock seriousness, before firmly voicing her approval.

"_Now_, you may eat." He didn't need a second invitation to dig in; the moment they sat down on the hay—Alistair found himself stuffing his mouth with two rolls of bread, a little unwilling to try the odd-smelling cheeses.

For some moments that was all he could think of, _wonderful_, _sacred_ _bread_, when he finally came to his senses and realized that he hadn't even thanked the girl (he really needed to know here name). The boy choked, unable to swallow, not to mention _speak_ to the girl who sat, watching his frantic chewing and horrible manners with an amused glitter in her blue eyes.

She seemed to understand, lifting a goblet from beside her, and this she offered to him too.

Alistair took it, tried to express his gratitude with quick nods and hopefully, equally _thankful_ grunts of appreciation. He saw her smile again, though this time she tried to hide it behind a hand.

At this moment, Alistair didn't care if she laughed outright at him, he meant it all—though admittedly, it could have been… more civilized.

A first gulp of the liquid told him that it was sweet. Very sweet. He offered it back at her, and the noble child actually sipped from it, before wrinkling her nose, quite delicately.

She seemed curious, he noted, watching her profile as she stared into the opaque drink. "_This,_ is _not_ grape juice." But still, they shared it, the large goblet all but emptying within the next few minutes.

Alistair began to feel bolder, and asked a very important question. Not the most important, mind you, but all the same, _very_ essential.

"What's your name?"

The girl looked decidedly flushed, a pinkness had crept into her cheeks, and she struggled to hold back some hiccups.

"E-lis-sa. C-cousla-nd." Suddenly, everything seemed funny. Alistair could not stop chuckling, very ungainly at a mere mention of her name. He looked over at her, wiping the tears from his eyes—thinking that perhaps the hiccups that had stricken the girl for she had doubled over too— wondering if she needed help, before more sounds of mirth erupted.

This was indeed, the most fun he had had in quite some time.

A long while later, after they had laughed themselves silly, E-lis-sa clambered back to a seated position, though evidently finding it hard to do so in the soft heaps of hay.

"Your name." It was a statement, but also a question. Alistair answered it as best as he could.

"A-l-lisss-ter," he began, before clearing his throat. Now was certainly not the time to set the both of them off again. "Alistair."

Elissa cocked her head to the side. "_Just_ Alistair?" Now, _she_ was frowning.

"I suppose you could call me _Fair_, or _Reasonable_ too" He grinned, though the girl staring back at him did not appear to have gotten the joke. Their moment of shared hilarity had passed, then.

"I don't _have_ a last name." There, it was out. He waited for her eyes to take on that pitying, or even worse, scornful glow. He had no proper father—he was a bastard.

"You don't really need one. I don't know any other Alistairs." The girl mused aloud. The sudden flash of emerald struck at his heart, and an impish grin spread.

"Oooh I know. Alistair _Cheese_."


	8. Chapter 8: Your first defender

A/N: Sorry for the late update! Got carried away with Skyrim heh. Hope you like it- thanks to everyone who has been following, reading reviewing so far! :D**  
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><p><strong>Your first defender<strong>

Fergus made his way towards the stables, following the smell of horses. More specifically, the smell of their…waste products. And hay. Fresh hay for the King's horses, he presumed. He and Elissa often played in the stables at Highever, although this kept putting both of them in disgrace with their mother. He didn't mind being yelled at, neither did his sister. Partners in crime, they were.

And when Nathaniel came to visit, they had another fellow playmate, leaving their best friend's younger sister—Delilah, to distract Thomas from their private antics. Fergus found himself thinking that she too was pretty, same age as Elissa—though a little bland. She never wanted in on their fun, content to keep her distance and was apparently, was too young to have been brought along today. He wondered why it was that his father and the Howes were firm friends. The two families seemed nothing alike.

"Took you long enough," a cool voice startled him, before a hand dragged Fergus into the shade of the thatched roof. Nathaniel? How was it possible that _he_ got out here before Fergus himself?

The boy smiled, brushing a swath of dark fringe off his forehead, whispering, "I snuck out right after the row." As usual, _he_ seemed uncannily attuned to Fergus's thoughts. This proved most horrible whenever they played, but was also a godsend when _they_ got into trouble.

They both knew that there would be something awful to pay when they returned to the party, but that was the least of their worries. Finding Elissa came first.

And then, Fergus would claim all responsibility for their antics, and _his_ father would smooth things over with Arl Howe. There. Problem solved. This happened quite a lot, as you can imagine, almost every time the Howes came to visit Highever.

Yet, something still bugged the young Cousland. The boy motioned Fergus forward, inching closer to a gap in the wooden slats that made up the stable.

"Why are we speaking in a hushed tone?" He hissed, moving closer to his friend. The bright hue of Nathaniel's outfit was not really suited for stealth, he noticed as the light caught the gold-embroidered collar. The Howes were sparing no expense for the party.

Nathaniel remained fixated on whatever he saw through the small gap, barely turning his head in reply. "Because _that_ is not a horse." He moved aside, allowing Fergus a look.

A very dusty-looking boy was sitting next to his sister, and the two were laughing, sharing food from the same silver platter, eating with their bare hands. There was no doubt that mother would find that deplorable—Elissa's table manners reduced to such 'barbarism'. He snickered. Oh Elissa. She had dirtied her dress. There was a spreading stain of the dark drink, or possibly mud on that blue, blue dress.

"It's probably a stablehand. Let's go, Elissa needs a change of clothes before my mother catches her." Fergus muttered with a growing smile, turning away as Nathaniel claimed the peephole again.

The boy noticed that his best friend had a very odd look in his eyes, and wondered if he were jealous.

_He_ had nothing to worry about—there was no way Elissa would fall for a stableboy over Nathaniel.

They were about to leave the shadows, when the door of the barn opened with a loud bang and the royal couple entered, thoroughly startling all of the children, inside and outside the wooden building.

A shriek came from the pair in the barn, and Fergus twitched. It was only Nathaniel's grip on his shoulder that had prevented him from rushing into the stables.

"Odd." The young Howe muttered, peering through that revealing gap.

There appeared to be some sort of staring game between the stablehand and the prince, and neither looked particularly happy at the other's presence. Fergus was at least gratified that the boy stood so defiantly in front of the glittering prince, shielding Elissa from whatever horrors that had so scared her with their unannounced entrance.


	9. Chapter 9: Your first Enemy

**Your first Enemy**

The little girl had let out the most piercing shriek—though that was cut off soon enough when the light revealed the two figures weren't the adults she feared. The animals weren't even fazed by that yelp, and Elissa was being an idiot—nothing should have caused her to elicit such an undignified cry in front of her new friend. _He_ had puffed out his chest, standing with fists clenched at his sides, staring down the intruders rather defiantly. The air was now only filled with the sound of the small huffs of breaths the horses made, the bored glaze in their large brown eyes, idly watching the scene in the stable.

"Cailan?" spoke the girl who still clung to the older boy and their golden hair stung Elissa's eyes with its shimmer. Their clothes were ridiculously gaudy for guests, she noted. Whoever they were, they cast off light with their silver and glittery trimmings. Very proud nobles indeed.

She stared curiously, gaze flicking between Alistair to the taller boy, who were both standing stock still, though Alistair's _ears_ had gone quite pale.

"Al-listair?" She called, clambering up from the heap of hay, gently tugging at the stableboy's sleeve.

He turned to her abruptly, as if woken from a spell. Yet, the boy remained mute, his face ashen, and he did not move from that spot. Elissa could see that he was very upset, and set her heart to hate the pair with all the strength she could muster.

The other boy spoke, his grin trying for amiable but failing. "So that's where you've gone— Elissa."

Elissa wrinkled her nose, before parting her lips to reply. She did not know this boy, and he seemed polite enough. But the feeling of Alistair tensing up next to her stopped her own civil greeting, and she decided on being haughty. She was a Teryn's daughter after all.

"Do_ I_ know you?" She began, and seeing the blonde girl's open mouth making a shocked "O", she continued with a smug smile, modeled after Arl Howe's famous half-sneer. "Mother says I'm not to speak to strangers." With that, the little girl flounced away, pulling Alistair along with her, settling with some finality upon the hay again. Belatedly, she noticed that the stain on the hem of her dress had begun spreading. Oh well.

The silence could not have been thicker. Elissa felt a little mean, but this had to be done when _presumptuous_ nobles tried to engage her in conversation. Alistair's ears were now a dark red, his face hidden as he bent over the plate of food again.

She was worried, and tried poking him in the side, to make him say something—anything at all. He barely squirmed. Now, she was more than a little annoyed at the couple.

"You're a rude little girl—" came the indignant sputter. Elissa really did not like the blonde girl one whit.

The boy actually stood up for her, though his sudden laughter grated on the little girl's nerves. "Anora, she's just a child." She was not _just_ a child—she was almost nine, old enough. The girls she knew from the village at Highever were apprenticed at the same age.

Elissa glared at the pair from under her eyelashes, and wished that they'd leave. She had half a mind to throw a bun at them, but that would be a waste of perfectly good food.

"Well her _parents_ obviously have not taught her well enough. Both her brother—" At this, the building anger flared up—_no one_ even dared to say such at thing to her face, yet. Elissa was perfectly aware that flying into a rage was not going to solve a thing, but she was finding it hard to keep calm.

All those tantrums she kept under control like the little lady her mother brought her up to be, all the harsh words she heard but never repeated, and all the spiteful things she could think of struggled for release. She stood up, and now it was Alistair's turn to clutch at her hand—but all that succeeded in doing was to give her a twisted sort of motivation in her endeavor.

She stomped up to the two older children, and though a little surprised to see the friendliness exhibited in the boy's blue eyes—she sucked in a deep breath before beginning her famous yelling. Alistair muttered something, but she heeded that not— her temper took after her mother's quite exactly.

"SHUT IT YOU—_you_ don't get to talk about my family as if you _know_ them—" was all she got out before a loud, heavy 'thud' silenced her.

Some more things had fallen through the rafters, and as the four children stared at the quivering lumps of hay, two more little boys tumbled free of the stringy things, panting and wheezing quite heavily. Fergus and Nathaniel? Just how long have they been there?


	10. Chapter 10: Your first Doppelgänger

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been following this story so far- readers, subscribers, reviewers! **  
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><p><strong>Your first Doppelgänger<strong>

Cailan squinted through the clouds of dust, wondering what divine intervention had stemmed Elissa Cousland's furore. Ah but of course, it was the girl's brother, Fergus, as well as this Nathaniel—_if he'd gotten both names right_— their timely entrance was impressive, if more than a little startling. He moved towards them, as if to help the boys up, but Anora had her lips pursed in that dangerous manner. She obviously did not care for the other children, and it was for only Cailan's presence that she remained where they were, in the dank and musty stable.

His thoughts returned to that figure that had, only moments before, mirrored his own features.

Of course, Cailan knew who the other child was—the one in the peasant's clothes. _Alistair_. His father's illegitimate child—who had been, very conveniently, hidden away by Eamon in Redcliffe as a stableboy. He wondered if there was a reason for Arl Eamon to keep the child quite so close by, though he doubted that his father had anything to do about it.

This _Alistair_ looked scrawnier than Cailan would have imagined—but there was no mistaking that Therin nose. It was like looking at a portrait of his younger self—Cailan fancied, though of course, very much less handsome.

"_Elissa_—" Fergus hissed, making for his sister determinedly. The girl shied away from him, moving towards Alistair. She seemed more concerned for the boy, who looked absolutely miserable at this point.

Nathaniel approached them both, caught their eyes and cleared his throat. "I'd apologise for Elissa's behavior," he began, "but she probably thinks you deserve it. As do I." The imp had the beginnings of a grin forming, before _he_ too turned to the exasperated older brother.

Cailan Therin was mildly amused at the camaraderie so displayed, though Anora seemed ready to explode, trembling in indignation at the way they were treated by the children.

He supposed that he should take some offense at the slights made by them all, but it was far more interesting to just note the way Fergus fussed over his little sister. The boy stood protectively over her, frowning fiercely at Alistair, for the two had linked their hands again.

"We have to get back to the party. Mother's getting suspicious, and that's never a good thing." Fergus took her other hand, trying anxiously to lead the reluctant girl away.

The little girl pulled back, actually took a moment to compose herself, before wheedling, "Only if _he_ can come along." By _him_, he supposed she meant Alistair, who looked incredulous at that.

Cailan found himself speaking—out of turn, surely— but he felt an indescribable reluctance towards the idea of _him_ attending the wedding, where countless others would note their physical likeness. "But _he's_ not invited. He's just a stableboy." He all but flinched when Elissa turned back to him, the venomous look in her eyes most disturbing.

"So what? No one would notice another boy, not with the king and the _glorious_ prince to distract them." She snapped back most viciously, and Cailan sorely regretted following after poor Fergus, who squirmed in embarrassment. At least Anora remained silent, though she was no doubt gaping at the young Cousland's antagonistic tone.

In the same abrupt silence, the only one who spoke was Nathaniel. He seemed to be the only one who supported Elissa's plan.

"I think Thomas has an extra outfit _he_ could fit into," he said, stepping between the siblings who remained at odds. Cailan noticed a slight crispness to the boy's words, and understood. There indeed was a very simple reason for that offer— he actually _liked_ the young spitfire.

And so it was settled. Elissa led a rather befuddled Alistair behind her and Nathaniel, exiting the stables while they plotted to steal the costume from this 'Thomas'. Her brother followed quite grimly, though not without an apologetic look to Cailan and his lovely escort—who was fuming in her quiet way.


	11. Chapter 11: Your first Covert Ops

A/N: I'm truly sorry for the delay, but I've finally finished one of my other stories, and will be working on this one full-time for now, so stay tuned! Hope you still like where this is going :D

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><p><strong>Your first Covert Ops<strong>

_Elissa certainly was going the distance for the stableboy_— Nathaniel found himself thinking quite sourly, though he was certain that her single-mindedness was absolutely platonic. She hadn't even let go of the boy's fingers since they left the stables! Sneaking looks at the expression on _his_ face however, only revealed the confusion this Alistair no doubt felt, having been caught up in Lissa's plans quite like a leaf in a whirlwind. Or a… kitten with an adoptive, albeit slightly overbearing—mother. _She_ did have that effect on people.

"So we have to get indoors, and change without attracting any attention. Any chance that the king and prince will keep all eyes off us?" She went on, leading the way next to Nathaniel, who had to struggle to keep his face straight. Lissa really had no idea who the two teenagers were—despite their _royal_ finery.

And it seemed that her brother was going to explode with this knowledge. "_Elissa_— those _are_—" Fergus was grimly trying to explain, but to no avail.

A man stood near the doors, kneading his brow—like a very overworked guard—Nathaniel thought, though he could very well be a courtier, forced to play lookout for the prince Cailan's venture outdoors. He looked up (_well, down, really—even Fergus didn't quite measure to the man's chest-height_) at their approach, his reddish hair gleaming copper, sharply contrasting the blue eyes in his positively friendly face. Nathaniel knew him. Bann Teagan Guerrin (_of Rainsfere— still single, though not for want of female attentions)_, brother to Arl Eamon (_of Redcliffe, brother-in-law to the king and therefore uncle to the prince)_, whose wedding they were here to attend—courtesy of all those lessons his parents were adamant in teaching— beginning with the memorization of faces of all the nobility.

"Ah—is the young prince with you?" The man smiled, eyes alighting on the determined little girl with the dreadfully windswept hair. He looked worried when he saw her mortified young charge, mute and trying to look inconspicuous—failing miserably. _She_ saw this, and in turn, met his gaze with a defiant stare. Elissa certainly was on the warpath today.

Fergus began by being impossibly vague, as always. This was why he was terrible at fibbing. "Um… they're… a ways."

A frown deepened between the young man's prematurely lined eyes, and Nathaniel knew that they needed to get inside before the prince could catch up to them and whine about their misbehavior. Lady Anora had seemed most displeased with the way Elissa had (and very rightly so) screamed in her face, though the prince had only appeared mildly shocked. He decided on buying all of them some time, with the one thing he knew teenagers in Amaranthine did in their spare time.

"They wished to be left alone, Bann Teagan. I think I heard them kissing." Nathaniel allowed the man a disgusted wince, confident that it was enough to satisfy the adult's curiosity— though he did wish that Fergus would stop making that ridiculous little _giggle-cough_ that had blown quite a number of cons at Highever.

Thankfully, Elissa promptly stood on her brother's foot and that broke the offending sound off into a grimace— she was always perfectly calm in situations like this, though this Alistair still quivered like a jelly.

_Success_— the man muttered something about young love and grinned knowingly, moving just enough so that they could squeeze past him and into the main hall— Nathaniel never thought that he would be this happy to see the mincing nobles and their stupid posturing.

They had a long day ahead of them— and while he wished that this Alistair would just shove off, Elissa's excitement and secretive ways were contagious. They snuck upstairs to the second floor, ducking into a broom closet—all four of them—as soon as a richly-dressed entourage came round the corner. The children tried to hold their breaths, stiffening as the light feet tapped closer to their door.

"I swear I brought the finest selection of cheeses from _Val Royeaux_, Jader and even Montsimmard— one of these _dogland_ servants must have developed a palate for the finer foods," A thickly accented voice sniffed quite despairingly, as the mincing footsteps continued down the corridor.

"For all you know, the _Fereldan_ king could have had them thrown out—and look where we have ourselves now, our clothes smelling of _Brie de Meaux_ and nothing to show." Came another voice, though this one was rather much more relieved about the mysterious cheeses disappearing.

Nathaniel muffled his sudden urge to snigger as he felt Elissa's cat-green eyes on him even in the pitch darkness of the closet, and he knew that the grin forming on her face was one _so_ familiar—she did enjoy getting away with larceny.

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><p>Thanks for reading, reviewing, and subscribing! Do more of those, please? ^_^<p> 


	12. Chapter 12: Your first rival

**Your first rival**

Anora was not happy. She had been dragged out into the muddy stables and endured no small amount of abuse from an ill-bred child, and then more inane remarks made by Cailan's uncle _Teagan_. At least she was indoors now, no longer standing around in cowpats—or _horsepats_—if those were an actual word. But she hoped that Cailan was satisfied, that there was no reward for helping those odious children, as well as the repulsive adult nobles they would surely grow up to become.

Her prince seemed shaken by their little adventure—his smiles were strained and his voice was not as jovial as before. Cailan's eyes darted all over the room, very likely searching for the four children.

A voice called from behind Anora, and she turned to find her father swiftly approaching her and the young prince.

"Where have the two of you been?" Upon seeing that Cailan was still indisposed to speak, she tried to explain, without revealing too much of what had transpired.

"Cailan accompanied me outside for a while. I needed some fresh air."

There was a short pause. "I see." Anora did not know if her father had bought that fib, but it was important to keep their stories consistent, especially when the guards could no doubt be questioned for corroboration.

He motioned her and Cailan to move with him, and the three walked back to the king—and he was regaling the nobles of his memories of Arl Eamon—who looked positively nervous and was perspiring profusely. He seemed extremely ill-at-ease in some rather form-fitting silk.

"And so, that was the first I laid eyes upon them both—fine young men, Eamon and Teagan… and both unmarried, to boot," Anora did not listen in on this; she gazed about the hall, beyond the pretentious noblemen, hoping to lay eyes on the children who had upset her so. Cailan also seemed to be distracted, though he quipped up at the appropriate places—also wondering if they had made it back without fuss.

"You must love her a lot," came the somber tone that belonged to Anora's father. Of course, everyone present knew that it could not be the woman's heritage that was attractive— she was _Orlesian_—the very same that the king himself had driven from their lands.

King Maric laughed, as did many of the nobles, all agreeing that it must be so. No one spoke about the underlying problem with the Orlesian bride—though the sentiment no doubt remained. Anora knew that more than half of these nobles had lost lands and loved ones to the usurpers, and her father had half-expected a revolt when they had news of this. She admired this man, who had loved a woman enough to overlook the complex of prejudices—but while it could be said to be _romantic_, Arl Eamon was setting himself quite a few enemies amongst the feverish fanatics of the Ferelden nation. If he wasn't King Maric's brother-in-law, or Cailan's uncle… he could be deposed very easily.

She looked at Cailan, whose own fingers intertwined with hers—and was absently sipping from a goblet of wine; wondering if he was one who would do the same for her, or any other woman. Anora did not believe for a second that without her father's machinations that Cailan would still pick her above all others—she knew that he had a roving eye. And with the way the nobles were ingratiating themselves, so did the king. A wink and he had the ladies giggling.

Cailan leaned close and whispered, the gentle puffs of breath tickling Anora's ear. "I wonder if they got back safe?"

"I should think so," She hissed back, her faint blush quickly receding. Or course, he was more concerned about that dreadful little girl—who had very quickly and efficiently led the troop of boys even though they had to be older than she was.

"There you are—Elissa Evangeline _Cousland_," a sharp voice pierced the hall's furtive conversations, and Anora craned her neck, wishing that she were taller—if only to witness the noblewoman's fury. A ripple spread across Ferelden's upper class as they turned to regard the scene, of four (half-terrified) little children. She was quite glad that she wasn't one of them.

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><p>P.S.: This chapter gave me trouble. Not to fear—I'll get right back with more chapters soon!<p> 


	13. Chapter 13: Your first rival 2

**Your first rival (2)**

It appeared that they were in some very nice chambers, Alistair saw—designated for the noble guests who were here for the wedding. Most of the nobles would stay here overnight, though he knew that the astute few had set up tents that would house them just as well near the entrance of Redcliffe. He briefly wondered if the Couslands were the sort to fuss over their sleeping arrangements; Elissa and Fergus did seem the sort to enjoy camping.

"It's this way, Liss—" Fergus muttered, leading them into a nearby room. The girl darted into the corner and rummaged a bit, before handing the bundle to Nathaniel. Alistair looked around; a little astonished to see that the room was rather small for a family of _four_, as well as their servants.

Fergus seemed to have noticed that flash of thought, although Alistair hoped that he did not appear impertinent to think so. "Our clothes and things are stored here—but we will not _sleep_ here."

"Father likes living outdoors— says he has to take it at every chance he has, before his old bones— or rather, _Mother_—gets in the way." The little girl pulled out more bits and pieces of cloth and jewelry out of her glorious mane of hair. Alistair rather liked it bare of such adornments, the natural darkness of her hair set off her green eyes rather well without them.

But Nathaniel ushered him out of the door, disrupting his view of the pretty girl by stepping into his line of sight.

"Ten minutes?" He called back as they exited the room.

"Make it half an hour. We need to tame that mess that Liss calls her hair." Alistair caught a glimpse of the older brother brandishing a brush, waving it about like a sword at Elissa's back—winking as he caught Alistair's eye. He smiled back, liking that they had seemed to finally accept him as _she_ so readily had.

_Having a brother might actually be fun_, he found himself thinking as the door closed behind them. Their banter was hilarious.

"It sure was nice of you to offer _my_ clothes without asking."

"Well he couldn't possibly wear Thomas' clothes; Alistair's too thin for those. Thank goodness you haven't had your growth spurt yet—_ow_," Her words were cut short as Fergus gave her a poke in the side.

"Soon I'll be taller than even Father," came the lofty reply.

Nathaniel grinned as he looked over his shoulder at the older boy. "_Soon_. But not yet." He shut the door before Fergus could respond with anything but a muted grumble.

In truth, Alistair envied this—a comfortable friendship among the three, something he had never had. The children in the village did not like him very much—they were warned away by Isolde's notorious temper. The children in the castle kept to themselves largely, though every so often they did not mind Alistair's presence in their games. Alistair was quite sure that they had been bribed into letting him join them; especially when a new dish was on the menu.

xOxOx

So Elissa had left him with this Nathaniel, who seemed none-too-happy about his presence. Well, it could be worse, Alistair thought as he buttoned the fabric together, and stood up to find himself clothed in the finest piece that he had ever worn. A shimmery grey—trimmed with bronze edgings, very expensive garments indeed. Nathaniel had been very business-like, giving him washcloths and the folded set without many words, and only a very meaning stare.

Alistair stared ruefully at that image of himself in the mirror; dressed like the same nobles he mocked daily, and all because a very pretty girl had told him to. And after seeing Cailan, his nerve was shaken—for he knew that the king would very likely recognize him too. It was probably better to go back to the stables and finish that plate of cheese—the animals would likely be much better company.

"You're _still_ not done?" The dark-haired boy checked on Alistair for the umpteenth time, and was quite annoyed to see him apparently still preening in front of the large looking glass.

"You know—I was thinking…" Alistair began, unconsciously undoing the topmost buttons that choked him quite so.

But the girl who barged in right after Nathaniel stopped all movement. "Alistair—are you ready?" He could not help but struggle once more, before giving in to that shining light gleaming in her eyes. It was quite clear that one could not say no to her—Elissa Cousland was just going to get her way, after all.

Her brother moaned something incomprehensible just outside the door, but the girl only grinned broadly as her girlish gaze swept up and down Alistair's new fancy clothes. She paused and advanced on Alistair, before calmly adjusting the collar that had irritated him so. Elissa had made it all better with just a gentle flick at something near his neck, before stepping back and admiring her handiwork. He fervently hoped that he wasn't blushing.

"There. Let's go," She turned, grabbing his hand and leading him after her again, like an obedient puppy. But then she grabbed hold of the other boy's hand too, and _they_ shared a grin that made Alistair's stomach go funny.

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><p>P.S.: <em>Ha<em> see—I can write two chapters in one night. Still suffering from a case of writer's block—but I think it's more of a case of wanting to write everything and anything at once.


	14. Chapter 14: Your first meeting

**Your (not-quite) first meeting with the King**

Fergus grew quite proud when he looked at his efforts, the taffeta dress did look very nice on his sister, the garment shimmering an almost-violet in the muted candlelight of the hall.

Elissa appeared wonderful, almost fairy-like, despite her initial complaints. It was a shame that they could not replace the little pearl tiara that had been so carefully woven into her hair earlier, but that wouldn't be missed, much—and it was already a miracle that they had been able to comb out the intricate braiding which did not survive that trip to the stables.

Fergus watched as the little girl laughed at something the young Howe had whispered, very likely something about the _esteemed_ Lady Bryland, and her stuck-up little daughter. This left Alistair looking so mournful at their private jokes, even as he followed closely behind. Fergus found himself walking to the boy's left, a friendly smile plastered on his face, if only to give poor Alistair some assurance that he hadn't been completely forgotten.

But Alistair barely even acknowledged this, for he still stared quite so hard at the girl in front of them. Fergus could only look on, unaware that they had been spotted through the milling crowd.

"_Elissa Evangeline __C__ousland_—" the sharp voice sent chills down their backs and for the second time that day, Fergus felt the imminent onslaught of trouble. At least his sister was there to diffuse the situation somewhat— Fergus could not imagine facing his mother twice today without her by his side. He would be blamed for the oversight.

"Hello mother," his sister smiled winsomely, gazing up the advancing parent, exuding nothing but innocence. This act did not work as well as one would expect, but it calmed Teryna Cousland somewhat to see her daughter act like the proper child she rarely was in public.

"So, how was the… privy, pup?" Interrupted their father, smoothing over his wife's irritation in a calm, soothing tone.

"Oh, I didn't go to the privy. I went to the stables, to see the horses," replied the little imp lightly in a flash of enlightenment. Fergus snorted- he knew that the lie about the washroom would fail anyway.

Their father's voice grew somewhat amused. "Ah I see. Your brother said…"

"And I didn't tell Fergus that, he would have blabbed—so I said I needed the privy." Her quick reply must have seemed almost natural to all who heard, though Fergus had no illusions that the fib went unnoticed by their parents. The children knew punishments would be lenient on the younger sibling's _transgressions_.

"So you see, mother of my children, it was _all_ Elissa's idea," said Father with a growing grin. This tale would be allowed to pass, out of his sister's sheer stubbornness. She had taken to sticking with the most ludicrous tales, never wavering from them even under the most tempting of bribes.

Their mother only pursed her lips firmly. Fergus heaved a sigh, before belatedly remembering that they were not quite in the clear. There was still the matter of the clothes.

"Hmm... Is that so?" Mother began, disbelief quite evident in her voice. She turned."Nathaniel— I trust that you won't tell me otherwise?"

The best friend shook his head most solemnly, though this assurance counted for little. He would never betray _his_ Lissa, that much was clear, even to their parents.  
>Father swallowed a suspicious throaty chuckle as Mother's brow furrowed just a little more. Her blue eyes alighted on the nervous child who had only seconds before held on so tightly to her daughter's hand. Thankfully, Bryce Cousland intervened. "And who is this young man with you? He is certainly quite… well-dressed." No one mentioned its uncanny likeness to that second suit of Fergus's.<p>

The two young Couslands turned and stared at Alistair, Elissa worrying at her lip and Fergus saying a silent prayer. The boy gave in question said his name with an awkward bow.

"My name's Alistair, Teryn Cousland." The sandy-haired boy struggled hard to meet the man's eye. Fergus knew that the newest addition to their party would've bolted, if not for his sister's encouraging actions.

"Just Alistair?" mused Bryce Cousland softly as he eyed the four children carefully.

"And why is he…" Began their mother, her curiosity taking on dangerous undertones, which prompted Elissa to panic, and she babbled furiously in response.

"I met him in the stables and he hadn't eaten, and his clothes were dirty, so I loaned him Fergus's. He's nice, and has wonderful table manners… Oh I also brought him food from the buffet—none of which would be missed- that's why I was gone for so long. We ate ch-eese, and drank the grape juu-ice, and talked _ever_ so long. But then I stained my favorite dress, and we went off to change, and I suppose that this one isn't so bad… Not that my dress or lateness is his fault, exactly. Oooh the white chargers were so majes-stic, Father—who did they belong to?"

The rush of words shocked the adults, and they had barely processed their daughter's babbling when King Maric's voice called at them from across the hall.

"I say, whatever is going on here?" The tall man was cheerful and quite pink from the festivities, but he began to approach the couslands' party. Now it was Fergus's turn to want to run away, for he had spied the Prince and Lady Anora being swept quite surely in their direction. What if their dreadful treatment of the two came out? Their parents would be mortified, embarrassed thoroughly in front of whole of _F__erelden__'s_ _finest_.

"Oh, it's… Nothing. We just found our daughter." Father began, falsely cheerful.

"Ah, she has returned from the… privy, yes? The King gave Fergus another broad smile and winked conspiratorially.

"Yes, your Majesty—this is she. Elissa cousland." Elissa stepped forward and curtseyed very nicely, and Fergus noticed that she made a point of pushing Alistair further behind her.

"Ah, she is every bit as lovely as your wife— and all good Ferelden stock too," The King announced, abruptly turning and raising his glass at the quivering Arl Eamon. Fergus wondered what had passed among the adults, for a murmur took up again, and words like "_Orlesian_" and "_foreigner_" were heard. The bride was apparently not so popular.

"Thank you, your Majesty." Bryce Cousland smiled, before attempting to lead the conversation away from the troupe of children, or of the touchy lineage business.

"Have you met the Howes? This is their son, Nathaniel." At this, the boy's parents made their way to the front of the crowd, and Fergus winced as Arl Howe's heavy hand clapped down on his friend's shoulder.

"The Arl and Arlessa, the young man's parents."

"Your Majesty."The pair bowed, as did Fergus's best friend, trapped by his parents' presence.

Elissa moved suddenly, and Fergus turned to see her catching hold of Alistair, who was squirming out past the crowd. All eyes remained on the royal party, and the nobles soon closed the gap through which his sister had disappeared. She was gone again.


	15. Chapter 15: Your stomach's first plunge

**Your Stomach's First Plunge**

Anora watched the small cataclysm from where she and the prince stood, but the miniature row did not unfold as she expected—the dratted little girl had won over her parents with such dumbfounded ease that it was almost insulting. She did not understand her sex, or the wily ways that came so naturally to others.

But something quite singular did occur, for Cailan all but choked on his drink when they both fixed their eyes on the boy who stood next to the Cousland girl— _Alistair_. He had been given a set of clothes, and these being quite distinct from his previous rough garb, brought out the glints in his dirty blonde hair. Cailan's visage darkened at this, and he glared rather menacingly, blazing fury in that glimpse of the boy's finery.

Now Anora did not consider herself akin to the other nobles at this event, many of whom would be outraged by this intrusion of a lowly peasant—but she saw the inappropriateness of such a situation, though the prince did seem to be overly put out by the boy's otherwise innocuous presence.

"Cailan?" She whispered when the King grew curious at the Couslands' little party. The royal child did not appear acknowledge his name; so intent as _he_ was on his discovery—and this left Anora little choice but to keep up with him. She did not like the way the other nobles looked over at them every now and then, meeting her eyes and giving more than flashes of irritation in their quick darting glances; she was sure that they'd fall upon her the moment she left her prince's side.

But by the time they reached the front of the crowd, Anora realised that the children were gone again— both the little Cousland girl and the stableboy— leaving only a despairing Fergus behind. She breathed a sigh, both sympathetic and relieved. While she pitied the long-suffering older brother, Anora felt most happy when Cailan seemed almost back to normal, gurgling cheerfully at the king's. Briefly, she wondered what it was that affected him so, before the King Maric turned around and introduced all of them, her father included, to an Arl Howe— a man with a very greasy nose—father to the other cheeky little boy, one _Nathaniel_ _Howe_.

The man was very polite, though his standard remarks did not appear as civil as they sounded.

"Bryce and you were the defenders of the White River? Yes, I remember. The Arl of Amaranthine."

A smile spread on the Arl Howe's thin lips. "And Amaranthine is doing very well, Your Majesty."

"Very prosperous," continued Anora's own father. "And some have said that it looks to rival Kirkwall's own port influence in the region."

"Ah, but so will Highever, began the king, his hand clasping Bryce Cousland's familiarly. We have economic stability in central Ferelden, and that is even more important than our foreign exports. And thanks to Highever, it seems that Fereldans are reaping the benefits of a prudent overseer like Bryce."

Anora had not imagined it, for again, there was a stressed emphasis on the word "Fereldan". It did not appear to be a seemly thing to mention, not when the Arl of Redcliffe had invited several Orlesian dignitaries to the wedding.

"I… only hope that I'm doing as good a job as people believe, your Majesty," came the modest reply from the friendly-looking man—one who did not look as if he had brats for children.

And then Anora saw it—something ugly streaked across in the Arl Howe's beady brown eyes, but it vanished as Teryn Cousland turned to praise Amaranthine's apparently new and bustling marketplace.

"It certainly is a shining pearl of a harbour," nodded the King indulgently, and Anora knew in that instant that it was only a diplomatic change of topic—something that she would have to learn if she was to fend for both her and Cailan in the future.

"With the support of Highever's economy, Your Majesty," bowed the man with the large, hawk-like nose. Anora decided that she disliked this Arl of Amaranthine very much indeed.

She then noticed that the dry talk was losing Cailan's attentions, for he began to glance around at the crowd, almost searching, though somewhat disinterestedly. There was quite a bit of movement by the walls, where servants began moving tables of food.

Another clamour rose, though of quite a different sort from the one before- and everyone looked around them to see musicians begin taking their places around the hall. The ceremony was to begin, and quite shortly. Several instruments caught Anora's inquisitive gaze—a six stringed lute, a beautiful harp almost six feet tall came into view as the tables were miraculously cleared from the hall. Pews were arranged, decorated with little bouquets of flowers; and no sooner did they sit down was the floor carpeted with a shower of similar petals, pink and vermilion, and the complicated chords of Orlesian origin began to play.

It was all meant to be enchanting, no doubt—this Anora understood— but few of the nobles seemed affected by the grand display. From her front-row view of the proceedings, Anora thought that she spotted two little figures hiding behind the altar where the Revered Mother of Redcliffe stood, looking just a little out of place, dressed in her plain ceremonial robes amidst such ostentatious finery.

"That's _not_ just a brilliantly coloured shadow, is it?" hissed Cailan under his breath as his brow furrowed again. Anora bit her lip nervously—things were certainly not turning out well.

* * *

><p>P.S.: A few more till the end, I should think! Can you guess what happens next? :3<p> 


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